The humans drew slowly towards them. The guards walked quickly, obviously focused on some errand of their master’s. Good. Catania felt her fears begin to abate; maybe they would pass by without trouble. The ground between them closed. The elf dropped her head, avoided eye-contact. She slid over under the tree branches to make way for them on the narrow road. To her chagrin, Tyre strode forward in the center of the road, right in the leader’s path. The Man stopped and planted his feet, and his followers spread out behind him, blocking the road. Catania stepped back. Tyre! Not now! Please not now. Why must it be now?

Tyre stopped, hooves planted firmly. His face was startling calm. No hint of anger—just proud hurt. The foremost human looked him up and down in surprise, and his dark eyes glittered fiercely with displeasure.

“Move out of the road.”

His voice was soft, but menacing. The quiet snarl of an awaken lion that came before the roar.

“I have a right to this road, I will not give way before every arrogant messenger I come upon.” Tyre’s voice was as stern and still as his face. Catania thought she might cut the tension in the warm, summer air with her hunting knife—it made her feel sick. Still, she felt a sudden, unwonted admiration for the steadfast figure in the road surge through her—a thrill she had never felt before as she saw the seething power he concealed. His will was like iron. She stood helplessly and watched the scene unfold, torn between admiration and disgust.

“Dare you speak back to me?” the soldier snapped. “I am Tirim Nothfall, captain of the noble Lord Nightseer’s body guard!” He drew himself up to his full height, as if he expected Tyre to beg pardon at once and retreat. “I say you get off the road.”

“Your master is a lord, and so am I, Captain Nothfall,” Tyre answered steadily. “You are not my superior, but the servant of my equals. I say you make way for Lord Tyre and go about your master’s business.”

Catania winced as she watched shock, and then rage distort the captain’s face. He grasped his sword-hilt—all restraints falling away. His voice was like thunder.

“Down on your knees before me, forest scum!” he roared.

“I will not bow before servants and upstarts!” Tyre bellowed, stepping back. Catania saw his muscles tighten, his fists clench—coiling for a spring.

Captain Nothfall whipped out his sword with a harsh rasping sound, and the other soldiers followed suit. Catania jumped back, choking on a scream. The captain stepped forward, then stopped, and whirled suddenly on the young elf, thrusting his sword out inches from her face. His dark brown eyes–almost as threatening as the steel–were bent on her expectantly. She glanced at his hard expression and felt herself trembling. She dared not meet Tyre’s gaze, but she involuntarily glanced towards his stamping hooves. Every inch of his body was shaking with stifled passion. She looked back at the captain’s commanding glare. He stepped toward her.  For a moment—for one quavering instant—she hesitated. Then she slid forward, onto her knees.

Something akin to a smile spread across the Man’s face and he stepped away, satisfied. Shivering, she scrambled to her feet and stumbled past the guards, who made way for her and turned towards Tyre. The young elf fled. She ran around the bend and then slipped into the trees—they seemed to fold around her like a warm, comforting mantle. She was shaking, but she turned and crept back, stealing through the underbrush as silently as she could.

Already she could hear cries and heavy footfalls on the road. She slid through the foliage and peered between the tree-boles, drawn by something she could not understand. She almost hid her eyes again, as she caught a glimpse of a soldier crumpling under Tyre’s heavy hooves. She drew two arrows from her quiver with trembling fingers as she watched Tyre leap back from the fallen Man to avoid Captain Nothfall’s sword as the leading human sprang forward. She knew the centaur was a match for any of them alone, but he could not fight five at once, unarmed. Without thinking about what she was doing, she held one arrow between her fingers as she nocked the other on her bow. Somehow her hands stayed steady as she bent the longbow and aimed.

Her fingers slid back, and bounced forward to put the second arrow in place before she could think. The captain crumpled to the ground, goose-feather fletching quivering against his scarlet cloak. Another fell beneath her second shaft, and the remaining two whirled towards the forest, faces ashen. Tyre bore down on the closest, and the man crumbled beneath his hooves. The hidden elf groped for another dart as the second sprang forward, but the centaur bent and wrested the sword from his victim’s unconscious hand. He deflected his surviving opponent’s blow, twisted his purloined blade, and stabbed. He drew out the bloody weapon and then let it fall with a clatter on the road, and stepped back breathing hard.

Catania involuntarily shrank back against a tree bole as his piercing blue eyes turned towards the forest.